Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 108165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
I shake my head when he meets my gaze.
He narrows his eyes. “Did he want to fuck you?” His middle two fingers slide between my legs.
I swallow hard before releasing a harsh breath. “Yes,” I whisper.
Jack grits his teeth.
“Don’t be mad.” I feather my fingers along his stiff jaw to his lips. “Be Baines.”
Confusion lines the corners of his eyes.
I guide his hand from between my legs and bring his fingers to his lips.
Realization softens his tense expression. “George Baines, huh?” He sucks on his wet fingers.
I nod.
Our gazes shift toward the door for a few seconds when we hear someone close the bathroom door.
Jack slides off the bed to his knees.
My pulse rattles my bones when he lifts my leg, opening me up to him. I bite my bottom lip and sink my fingers into his shoulders while he spears his tongue between my legs.
I squeeze my eyes shut and bite my lips together, trying hard not to make a sound.
It’s torture.
When I can’t keep my knee from buckling, he guides me to the bed and resumes his best George Baines. Ada was mute. I try to be Ada.
I fail. After thrashing my head side to side and twisting my body while his hands pin my hips to the bed, I grab the pillow and cover my face to absorb my deep moans.
Jack stands, wiping his mouth before peeling off his tee and unbuttoning his gray cargo pants.
I jackknife to sitting, yank the front of his briefs past his erection, and run my tongue along the length of his cock. I’m confused by the day’s events, stupefied by Jack’s knowledge of Molly’s video, and speechless. Ninety-nine percent of my conscience tells me Jack can’t be trusted. But that remaining one percent is in control. That one percent wants to rid my body and mind of Archer Sanford. That one percent grips Jack’s hard glutes and takes him deep into my mouth.
He cups my head in his hands.
Then that ninety-nine percent clears its throat and kicks me in the gut. It’s ….UGH! It’s really my mom who clears her throat.
Jack stills with his back to her, staring straight at the wall while tucking himself into his briefs and zipping his pants.
I snap my knees together. There’s no hiding that I’m naked from the waist down.
“Francesca Adeline Holter …”
I have no fucks to give at this point. We’ve been here before.
Jack’s a soldier. He stands guard in front of me like my mom’s not in the room. He even casually slides his hands into his pockets, but he doesn’t look at her, not even a glance over his shoulder.
I lean to the side and give my mom a tight grin. “What’s up, Mom?”
With her infamous O expression and slow-blinking eyes, she shakes her head. “Eloise wondered if a little ginger oatmeal might soothe your stomach. But it looks like you’re getting your fill.”
Rubbing my lips together, I nod several times. “I’m working on it. Tell her thanks.”
She frowns at my dismissiveness and slams the door behind her.
Jack peers down at me and grins. “You didn’t introduce me to your mom.”
“I asked you yesterday if you wanted to meet my parents. You said no.”
“I thought you locked the door.”
“I did!” I snag my panties from the floor and charge toward the door. After I push the lock button, I turn the handle and open it. The lock’s broken. Closing the door, I lean against it in defeat and step into my panties. “You should climb out the window.”
He lifts an eyebrow, sauntering toward me.
“My dad owns a gun.”
Amusement plays along Jack’s lips. “I’ll go out the front door when you’re done.”
“When I’m done, what?”
He eyes me while unzipping his pants. “I’ll hold the door shut.” With his pants open and his erection straining against his briefs, he presses his hands to the door over my head.
“I have a Ph.D. I don’t get on my knees for anyone. I’ll sit on the bed.”
He ducks his head and kisses me. It’s good. Really good. But a woman needs standards and limits. I undressed and played his piano yesterday. That’s my limit.
“Adeline …” he whispers. “A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”
Not fair.
Again, he kisses me. “A goddamn queen,” he murmurs along my jaw to my ear.
I lower to my knees, but I don’t look at him. “I’m only doing this because someone has to guard the door.” My feminism is still intact. Sort of.
CHAPTER TWENTY
FRANCESCA
Jack follows me down the stairs. I have no intention of introducing him to my parents.
He doesn’t want me to.
He lives in a garage and might be a serial killer.
My dad won’t be able to help himself. He’ll feel obligated to ask Jack what his intentions are with “his daughter.”
Do I want to know Jack’s intentions? After today, I’m not sure. The reason I’m horny as fuck around him is because he lives in a garage and might be a serial killer. I don’t know if I want to know the meaning behind his tattoos or how his wife died. How many kids he has. Or how far away from the cafe he was when he put four bullets in Archer’s tires.